


The Heavenly Kiss of A Blade

by Fanatic_Fangirl



Category: Dan Howell - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom, Youtube RPF, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Depression, F/M, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:44:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanatic_Fangirl/pseuds/Fanatic_Fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You seem to do your best (or is it your worst) thinking in the tub. Dan tries his best to help ... but what if it's not enough?</p><p>TRIGGER WARNINGS:<br/>~ Romanticises self-harm<br/>~ Mentions and describes cutting<br/>~ Attempted Suicide occurs<br/>~ Depression<br/>~ Speaks of therapy briefly (don't know if this could trigger someone, but hey I'll just leave this here to be safe)<br/>~ Low Self Esteem (again, same as above)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Quite Ready for Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT!
> 
> IF you didn't read the summary, here you go-
> 
>  **TRIGGER WARNINGS:**  
>  Mentions and describes cutting  
> ~ Attempted Suicide occurs  
> ~ Depression  
> ~ Speaks of therapy briefly (don't know if this could trigger someone, but hey I'll just leave this here to be safe)  
> ~ Low Self Esteem (again, same as above)

I sat in the bathtub, listening to the cars driving by on the street outside. It’s strange how one can sit here, thinking about how to kill themselves, and the world just goes on as normal. It just kind of proves how insignificant you are I guess. I ran my hands over my face slowly, trying to clear these morbid thoughts from my head. I try to think about how cold the water is, how pruny and weird I look right now, anything besides the sick thoughts flying around in my head. Of course it didn’t work though, it never does. For months on end, I’ve been plagued with these thoughts, with this intense lack of feeling. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever truly be able to feel anything again.

I mean, it’s not like I’ve gone absolutely numb. There are times where I do feel emotions, but they aren’t what they used to be. It’s almost like slowly losing your vision. You hardly notice it until all the colors are so faded it looks like they have been left in the sun for years. Yet, sometimes things happen that make me feel like I’m alive and whole again. Things like music, writing, and Dan.

I live with him and Phil, and it’s definitely one of the best things to ever happen. They are so amazing (no pun intended) and full of life. Waking up and getting to see those two just hanging out is one of my favourite things. Sometimes I wish their fans could see them like this, when the cameras are off and they are completely themselves. Yet at the same time, I’m terribly selfish and just want to keep all these precious memories to myself.

The only thing I like more than seeing the two of them together is when I get to be with Dan. Despite the fact that I feel everything in muted pastels, he manages to somehow show me the colors again, even if only for a few moments at a time. It’s the way he likes to be lazy with me, laying on the couch watching Netflix all day. How he still acts like a school boy with a silly crush, stealing glances at me when he thinks I’m not looking. Or how he randomly gets in these adventurous moods and drags me along to explore some new place he was told about. There are so many wonderful things about Dan, all his silly quirks and sarcasm and everything, it’s all really hard to put into words.

He deserves so much better. Dan is popular and attractive and funny and intelligent … And I’m the sort of messed up person who spends three hours sitting in a tub of freezing water, letting corrosive thoughts eat away at her from the inside. I know I need help. I was getting help. Dan actually convinced me to start seeing the doctors in the first place. It happened on a day much like this one:

_I was making small cuts on my hips and thighs, lining them up with stretch marks to make them as invisible as possible. For months this has been going on, almost ten I think, and neither Dan or my Doctor has noticed, so I must be doing well. With one cut for each thing I could think of that I didn’t like about myself, I was at somewhere around twenty when I heard the door open._

_Knowing it had to be either Dan or Phil I panicked and dropped the blade. This isn’t how they were supposed to find out. I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted them to find out. “Y/N, are you okay? I just wanted to know what you wanted me to order from -” Dan stopped mid sentence as he looked over at me, eyes wide and jaw hanging like the tense silence in the air between us._

_I felt tears well up in my eyes, not only from shame and embarrassment and a bit of rage, but at the stinging sensation coming from my leg. I glanced down, letting a few tears escape, and saw the blade had made a long cut down the inside of my thigh. Thankfully, it didn’t seem deep, but the stinging made a small smile come to my face. For the first time in months I was truly feeling something, and I didn’t care that it was painful. I’d rather be set on fire than continue feeling as numb as I have been feeling for the past year._

_Suddenly, without warning, I noticed the red bath water going down and felt myself being lifted up. I panicked and wrapped my arms around the nearest thing, only realizing seconds later it had just been Dan. He had thrown away the blade, pulled the plug in the tub, and picked me up to look at my wounds while I was in my daze. After he made sure I was physically okay, he let me get dressed and sat down with me in his room._

_We had a long talk, and it killed me to see how hurt he was by what he’d seen. I hated that I’d done that to him, and mentally added it to the list. “I just don’t understand.” He said at one point. “I look at you and see so many amazing things, so why do you hurt yourself? What do you see that you think is so terrible?”_

_The question caught me off guard, so I looked at my lap and played with my hands. “Well, I see lots of things. When I look in the mirror, I see someone so plain and boring … But so ugly at the same time. I see a stupid, fat girl who doesn’t deserve the few things she has. I see a selfish bitch who has no gifts and contributes nothing, who does nothing but take. Mentally, and in general I guess, I see a garden. Except, this garden is full of weeds, which are my flaws. So I spend all of my time pulling at them, trying to make myself better. Trying to make myself good enough, especially for you. Because you are so many things … And you settle for me. What could you possibly see in a fucked up basket case like me?”_

_Dan had tears running down his face when I looked up, and it made me want to hit myself. Look what I’d done. All I do is hurt people. The only thing I’m good at is breaking things and damaging people who get too close. It’s like I’m a bomb, and everything around me is in the blast zone. I should really just leave, so I won’t hit Dan with the shrapnel when I finally blow up._

_He took my hand and pulled me onto his lap, holding me tightly. After about five minutes, he spoke up. “I see so many things. I see a queen, who doesn’t take shit from anyone, not even me. I see someone so beautiful and smart, with so many talents, that every day I wake up and wonder how I got someone so bloody special to love a lazy weirdo like me.” He paused, lowering his voice again after I flinched because he’d been practically shouting. “I think the thing I see most is an angel, who is simply too fucking much for this world. But let me tell you something, I’m selfish. I’m unbearably selfish and refuse to let you go back to heaven just yet. Not even because the world hasn’t seen the best of you yet, but because I’m not ready for you to leave me yet. I’m not ready to let go.”_

_There was only silence for a while as we both cried. I couldn’t define the mood in the room, it was neither happy or sad, but it was definitely intense. Finally, Dan spoke up again. It was only a whisper, but it was more than enough. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.” Those seven simple words shattered my heart. Hearing Dan’s voice break as he muttered them made it even worse. I held onto him desperately, even more than I had before._

_We talked for hours, and finally he convinced me to talk to a specialist, on the condition he’d come with me. Both Dan and the doctors worked for seven months on making me better. I was making progress, and beginning to see things the way I did before I got sick, which is how the doctors put it._

_Then his fans found out._

I don’t know how really, it just kind of happened. I guess somebody probably saw us walking into the psychologists office and took a picture and posted it, but whatever happened spread like wildfire. I knew I couldn’t keep it a secret forever, but I’d wanted to tell my secret when I was ready. By the time my two hour session had ended, the picture was viral. Everyone was asking what was wrong, prying about me and Dan, and just being very intrusive. The only other time my phone had blown up this much was when me and Dan publicly declared we were in a relationship. I suppose it makes sense, the fans were just concerned and curious, but then it got so much worse.

Filthy rumors began spreading, and it attracted even more attention. People were claiming I was crazy, that Dan or I (or both, depending on the source) had any number of mental disorders, that we were going through couples counseling, and practically anything else you could dream up. I went from being vaguely known as Dan’s girlfriend due to some pictures, our social media interactions, and the few videos I appeared in or he talked about me in, to some psychopathic mental patient.

Due to all the sudden attention, I shut down. I stopped posting on social media and deleted all of the apps for them. I also stopped seeing the doctors, despite how much Dan pleaded for me to continue the treatments. I painted on smiles for him and told him I was fine. Over time his guard dropped and he believed me. I think people lost interest in me after I vanished, and even Dan began to act like nothing had ever happened. Finally, he stopped watching me so closely, making sure I was eating properly and checking me for scars.

I quickly fell back into my old habits. The darkness of my mind welcomed me back like an old friend. My blades were hidden everywhere, brought out to bring some feeling back into my life. I began weeding my garden again, as it had withered once my appointments ended. I was writing and drawing again, like I had nearly a year ago, but it was all so much darker and more morbid than before. Sketches of demons, devils, and graveyards. Poems and stories written about death and losing your mind. If Dan ever found these he’d be horrified. He’d finally realized the monster I’ve become.

Which brings me back to here and now, sitting in the tub, letting my fingers dance with the blades on my skin. Their steps created horizontal lines along with phrases expressing how I felt. Ugly. Stupid. Worthless. Unwanted. The list continued, all in a beautiful blood red. The stinging brought a smile to my lips, it and Dan were the only things that could anymore.

I let out an ironic chuckle, noticing that this has been just like what I’d been thinking of on that first day. When Dan had burst into the bathroom. I swear I can hear him now, his heavy footsteps heading this way. Shouting nonsense about food, throwing the door open, asking me questions before stopping in shock and- my thoughts and actions came to an abrupt halt as the door opened and Dan walked in, waves of deja-vu smothering me.

I dropped the blade in terror from my shaking hand and felt the familiar sting of the blade slicing open my skin. I didn’t even need to look to know the water was a pale reddish pink. I heard Dan gasp and my eyes filled with shameful tears again. Once Dan recovered, he grabbed my arms and pulled me up before hugging me tightly, much to my surprise. I expect yelling, or some form of frustration and disgust. Nothing like compassion or affection.

“Remember the last time this happened?” Dan suddenly said, making me jump at the sound. I calmed down and nodded, swallowing the lump growing in my throat. “Well, I was thinking about our conversation, and I realized I didn’t say something I should have.” My entire body tensed, fearing the worst. He’s finally going to leave. He gently pulled back and looked me in the eyes, and I nearly collapsed into a sobbing mess right then and there.

“You told me how you see nothing in yourself, right? And at all your sessions you’d talk about your fear of failure and how you didn’t want to disappoint people and just wanted to be good enough. This whole time I tried to show you that you were loved and appreciated … and maybe I should’ve shown you that you aren’t alone.” He was nervously scratching his cheek, something he did usually when he was uncomfortable or feeling anxious. My heart pounded, wanting to help him calm down and feel at ease.

“I guess, what I’m trying to say,” He stopped, taking a deep breath. “Yes I know how you feel. Maybe not to your extent, but I still understand. I understand how it feels being in a room full of people and looking around and knowing no one would care if you just vanished. Hell, I didn’t have a best friend for eighteen years. Phil and you are some of the only people I feel I can truly be myself with. I worry all the time about not being good enough and letting everyone down …” He ran his hand through his hair, messing with it nervously before laughing a little. “And don’t even get me started on the talentless thing. I mean, look at you?” My eyes widened. Me? What can I do?

“Don’t even play dumb. You write such powerful, emotional things, and you draw so well for someone who has never taken an art class, it is honestly something I’m very envious of. You’re so creative and smart and … I sit in front of a camera and talk about the reasons I’m a terrible human being. Half the time I make people dislike me just by what I say and … It’s like my tongue has a mind of its own, it’s my greatest weapon. See? You aren’t the only broken one. I just … It’s stupid, but I’m afraid of cutting you with my edges, if that makes sense. I want you to be okay and I thought not burdening you would be helping.”

He looked at me with his brown doe eyes and I felt myself hug him tightly, as if somehow I could put all his broken pieces back together like this. Then it hit me. This is what he meant. It hurts him to see me suffer, just like how I hate seeing him in pain of any sorts. I can’t imagine how he must feel, watching me inflict all this on myself.

We spent the rest of the night in each other's arms, simply talking. Confessing our secrets and sins to one another. I cuddled up to him at one point and asked if he remembered our heaven conversation, he nodded saying he did. “Well, you’re not the only one who isn’t ready to let someone go yet.” Dan wrapped his arms around me and kissed me gently. We stayed like that for a while, until he asked me if I’d consider going back to the therapist again. I looked at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, and nodded.


	2. Can I Still Get Into Heaven?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really long delay on this one, sorry, thought I'd posted it and was working on the next one and ... Heh sorry. ENJOY!

The sessions started up just as they had before, but something was different now. Th specialists knew of what happened and how far I’d digressed, so there shouldn’t have been a problem. Yet it seemed like every time I came in for an appointment there was this big elephant in the room that everyone just kept ignoring. It was driving me crazy, but I had no idea what was wrong or how to fix it. 

Once again, I find myself sitting in the bathtub, questioning why I continue to live. Or rather, attempt to live. Since the last time I felt this way, I had tried to make improvements, but nothing seems to be working this time. Therapy hasn’t done much, and even though I know Dan is always here for me I feel like I can’t open up to him. I don’t want him to drown in my sorrows. I feel so paranoid all the time, opening up is physically painful. 

I put my head in my hands and sigh. I hate this. The voices in my head, my toxic thoughts, everything. I just hate myself. It seems like the solution would be to end it. It’s obvious. It would make everything better. 

Once again, at this point I feel like I’m in a sitcom and this is the running gag, me dragging the blade across my skin. How can I be so desperate to feel anything at all? I look down at my arm and frown. Once the first cut is done I start on the next, but the same thing happens. Nothing. I feel nothing. Why isn’t it working? Tears begin to well in my vision as I cut myself over and over again. This should be working, it’s supposed to make me feel things. What is happening?

I throw the blade in outrage, not caring where it goes. I put my hand on the edge of the tub and try to lift myself out, but I notice the bright red trailing down my arm. I guess the cuts were deeper than I’d thought, since the water is already turning fairly pink. I shake off my thoughts and try to stand up, but the world tilts precariously back and forth. It’s almost like I’m on a boat lost at sea instead of in a flat. It takes a bit of struggling but I finally find another blade. 

The tilting has subsided, but now I’m shaking. It’s very hard to mark yourself when you’re shaking like a druggie going through withdrawls. In a sickly morbid yet poetic way, I guess I am an addict. I’m addicted to the pain, because pain is better than nothing at all. 

I’m so distracted by my thoughts, I hardly notice how dim everything is getting. Suddenly, everything gets really bright, like everything is being overexposed. I smile, thinking of mine and Dan’s conversations about heaven. Neither of us are religious, but we often talk about what we think it could be like. My personal favorite is the idea that it’s this beautiful place with no fear or pain, where everyone is back in their prime (or the time they were happiest), wings and halos on everyone. It just seems so pleasant, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t intrigue or fascinate me. 

The light just keeps getting brighter, my thoughts becoming fuzzy while my fingers go numb. I get an idea and start scrambling to grab the razor once more. I begin to panic, worrying I won’t have enough time to act it out. Finally I get a hold of it and the carving ensues again. It takes a couple minutes to cut the words into my leg, but I do it. A large grin appears on my face as I look over what I’ve done.

Even though everything is starting to get very blurry, I can still read the glorious red letters. 

I want to admire them longer, but my eyes feel really heavy. 

Maybe I should sleep. 

Sometimes that makes things better. 

My eyes begin to drift shut, but I feel like I should check the door. 

I try to look at the door, but I don’t feel in control of myself anymore. It’s like I’m just a puppet, helplessly at the whim of someone else’s hands. I think I hear a noise, but it’s hard to tell. I might just be imagining things. 

I am so tired. Feeling very sleepy. When I finally close my eyes, I see the beautiful blood red letters again. I smile again and enjoy the image, letting the bright light over come me. I swear I hear the noise again, louder this time. Just before the light consumes me I hear yelling and a slam. Was that the door?

I shake my head, focussing only on my masterpiece. Repeating the ten words over and over as everything fades into white noise. 

“Can I still get into heaven if I kill myself?”

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is slightly, losely based off the song Young Gods by Halsey. I was listening to it while writing and yeah. Some lines resemble it more than others. 
> 
> Now there will be two more chapters, which I'm writing now, but feedback would be greatly appreciated. :)


End file.
